Fateful Encounter
by TheLittlestRaindrop
Summary: After a chance encounter at age 16, you and Professor Sycamore had become fast friends. However, friendship is the last thing on your mind as you pay him a visit five years on.


Ah, the sweet air of Lumiose City. How you've missed it so. The pungent aroma of roasted coffee beans, the busy streets, a partially sighted lady failing to notice her Furfrou soiling itself on a grassy island… there's no place like home.

Well, technically you were born in Kanto, but given that you'd left there as a child, this place may as well be home. Your parents had moved here when you were five, wanting a taste of the 'Kalos Romance' that this region is apparently famous for. They ended up getting a divorce only two years later, after your father hooked up with a backpacker. You haven't seen him for a few years now, not since him and Henry tied the knot. As for your mother, she'd never moved on, instead deciding to dedicate her life to caring for weak and lonely Pokemon. Something of her decision must have rubbed off on you, as you decided you'd dedicate your life to a similar purpose; you want to show people the world over that Pokemon respond far better to love than they do to cruelty. So, on your 11th birthday, you'd started off on your journey, with nothing but an Eevee for companionship.

Over the years, you've made many new friends from across various regions, both Pokemon and human alike. Your most notable new friend is a man you'd met upon visiting Sinnoh. You'll never forget that meeting…

 _The early morning sun peaked out from behind the trees as you arrived in Sandgem Town. You were running late by almost an hour, due to a certain someone hiding your alarm clock (honestly, who knew just how much mischief one Buneary can get up to?). You'd still be in bed were it not for a few particularly vociferous Kricketots in a field near your hotel! You'd scrambled out of bed as hastily as possible, and bolted, not even bothering to put make-up on (something nearly unheard of for a sixteen year old girl). You'd made an appointment to visit Professor Rowan to discus his theories on evolution, and you'd hate to keep him waiting any longer. The man can be quite… cantankerous at times, so it's best to stay on his good side as much as possible._

 _Finally, his lab was within your view. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and started running towards it, trying to think of a decent enough apology to avoid his ire._

 _Unfortunately, you'd been so distracted by your thoughts that you'd failed to notice someone leaving the lab. You'd collided with them head-on, knocking you both to the ground. At first you'd thought it might have been Professor Rowan, until you'd noticed your unfortunate victim's hair. Long, dark, and wavy, perfect for running ones fingers through. Not that you'd thought that at the time, obviously…_

 _He'd managed to rise back to his feet much quicker than you, and as such extended his arm to you in order to help you right yourself. You'd thanked him without looking at his face, wanting to avoid what you were certain would be a furious gaze. He'd picked up on this, and taken matters into his own hands; quite literally, in fact. He'd put on of his hands underneath you chin, tilting your head up to face him._

' _Are you okay, Mademoiselle?' His voice was like honey, all sweetness and sin._

 _You'd found yourself getting quite flustered. 'I'm okay, it's er… it's me who-o should be apologising, really. I d-didn't see you, Sir.' Looking back, you don't know why you'd called him 'sir'. You'd never called anyone 'sir' before, nor have you ever call anyone 'sir' since. Something about him made you alter your vocabulary, if only for a moment. It was at that moment you'd realised you'd instantly formed a crush on the man, without even knowing his name!_

 _He'd smiled at you, and you'd felt yourself grow weak at the knees. 'That is okay, I'll never begrudge a pretty young woman throwing herself at me. Usually, they are a little older than you, though. I take it you are the young miss that Professor Rowan is waiting for?' You'd nodded, completely speechless at having being called 'pretty' by the man. 'Tres Bien! The man has been waiting for a quite a while, you know?' You remember swallowing hard, terrified that your tardiness had been noted._

 _The handsome stranger had let out a loud laugh. 'Don't worry, he won't shout at you too loud. He's quite soft, once you get to know him. Speaking of getting to know people, my name is Augustine Sycamore, Pokemon Professor. It's a pleasure to meet you.' You'd been a little taken aback by his introduction. Another Pokemon Professor? In the same region? Unheard of!_

 _He'd picked up on your surprise. 'Oh, you misunderstand, cherie. I am usually based in Kalos, not Sinnoh. No, I am merely visiting my old mentor. Speaking of, perhaps it is time I introduced him to you? Us standing here chit-chatting will only prolong the inevitable. Come, let us go and see him, and cover our heads as we do!' With that, he'd all but dragged you into the lab, leaving your head spinning._

You sigh as you recall that fateful first meeting. After that meeting was concluded (and Professor Rowan was done berating you for your tardiness), the two men had both given you their contact details, should you require their advice at any point. You've only called on Professor Rowan a handful of times, mostly just to update him as you progress through the various different regions. Professor Sycamore on the other hand…

Well, he's become one of your closest friends.

There's seldom a day when you don't contact each other somehow, whether it's a quick email, or an extended call via Holo Caster. At first, you'd been genuinely interested in his research, intrigued by 'Mega Evolution', as he'd dubbed it. He'd even given you advice on how to evolve your Eevee, who is now a perfectly happy Sylveon, all thanks to Professor Sycamore suggesting you teach her Baby Doll Eyes. Over time, and as you grew older, you found your feelings towards him change. No longer are you a child, stuttering as she tries to speak to her crush. Now you're a grown woman, in love with a man she's only seen in the flesh a handful of times. Still, five years of conversing with someone will naturally change your opinion of them...

You make your way through Lumiose's crowded city streets, looking for his lab. When you'd told him you were on your way back to Kalos, he'd all but insisted that you pay him a visit. 'I haven't seen you in person for so long!' he'd said. 'It would be so nice to talk to you face-to-face. We have a lot to catch up on!' You'd shaken your head at his enthusiasm, and promised to visit him the first chance you got. You had however neglected to tell him that's he's the main reason you've come back here…

Finally, you spot what you're certain is his lab. You head up the steps and into the building, sincerely hoping that you've got the right address.

The door leads into a foyer, complete with a large reception desk. You walk straight up to it, still hoping you're in the right place. The woman behinds the desk gives you a warm smile as she spots you. 'Ah, you must be the young woman Professor Sycamore mentioned would be visiting soon. His description of you was most accurate. You'll find the Professor on the third floor. Have a nice day.' A somewhat abrupt greeting, but at least you know you're in the right place. You thank the woman, and head straight for the elevator, hands shaking slightly. Are you really this nervous about seeing him? It'll be fine, he's an old friend, after all. He just happens to be an old friend that you're unrequited in love with.

The elevator comes to a halt suddenly. You're arrived at your destination.

Taking a steady breath, you exit the elevator, and begin to look for Professor Sycamore.

You don't have to look long; the man apparently heard you coming. He walks straight up to you, a wide grin on his face. 'So, she visit me at last! It's been so many years since I last saw you in the flesh. At least you didn't right straight into me this time, non?' He grabs one of your hands, bringing it to his lips. You feel yourself reverting back into the teenager you once were, and it takes all of the control you possess not to turn into a stuttering mess before him.

You do your best to return his smile. 'It really has been too long, Professor. However, I have been a very busy woman lately, thanks to that business down in Unova last month. Honestly, the stories I could tell you...' you let your words trail off, finding yourself unable to continue with the train of thought due to the fact Professor Sycamore's lips are still attached to your hand. You consider pulling it away from him, but a part of you knows this may be the only time his lips touch any part of you. You'd like to relish in the feel of them, if only for a moment.

That moment is ruined by a woman, stood just behind the Professor. 'Oh, so your friend did come, after all? Good, I would have hated to see your face if she had let you down. I'll be back tomorrow morning to continue our research. In the meantime, I'll make sure no one interrupts your reunion.' She winks at you, just as the Professor comes back to his senses.

He rubs the back of his neck as he answers her. 'O-oh yes, very good. Au revoir!' She leaves hastily, yet you're certain she was smirking about something. You know, come to think of it, she's the second person who's mentioned the Professor has been talking about you. And yet, it's only been a week since you told him of your plans to return. Has he spent the last week talking about you so much that they all know who you are, despite never having met you? Or does this go on longer? Has he spoken about you much since your first meeting?

You don't have time to think on it longer, as Professor Sycamore breaks your train of thought. 'So, now that you are here, how about we have ourselves a little picnic? I'm afraid I don't have much, but it should be enough to share. Oh, but I don't have a blanket, either... I know!' With that, he darts off to the right, behind a half wall of some description. You follow him, curious to see what he has planned.

You end up coving your mouth in shock as he removes his lab coat. Is he about to start stripping in front of you?!

He catches sight of your alarm. 'Oh, I apologise. I should have explain my plan before I started stripping. I was going to suggest using my coat as a picnic blanket. Not the most sophisticated of ideas, I'll admit, but it's all I can do at the moment. Or, we could just sit at a table like two normal human beings. The choice is yours, ma cherie.' His gesture is somewhat unorthodox, but you can't deny that it's cute.

You take his lab coat from him and spread it out on the floor, taking your shoes off as you do. You take a seat on the collar, before removing your socks and putting them with your shoes. You beam up at him, hoping he'll take the hint.

He beams right back. 'So, the lady has decided to go along with my mad scheme it seems. Tres bien! I shall go and fetch our lunch, if you would kindly wait a moment.' He disappears, leaving you to sit alone on his lab coat. You only hope his assistant has told everyone to stay away as promised, otherwise it's going to be difficult explaining your situation to a visitor. Well, technically you're the visitor, but your thought still stands.

Thankfully, he's back in no time, brandishing a baguette, a selection of cheeses, grapes, a bottle of red wine, two plates, and two glasses. He carefully places them all onto his lab coat before removing his own shoes and socks, and joining you on the floor. He carefully pours you both a glass of wine, before he starts cutting up the baguette into sandwich-sized chunks. You sip your wine and watch him work, your heart fluttering as the effort from all the cutting causes his bangs to fall in front of his eyes. You lick your lips, fighting the urge to sweep them back for him. Would he be offended if you did? Only one way to find out…

Unfortunately, he finishes slicing before you get the chance to. He hands you a few pieces of bread on a plate, before gesturing to the cheese. 'Please, help yourself to whatever you want. You must be hungry after all of your travelling. Speaking of which, how have you been? Your messages haven't been very detailed lately. I was beginning to worry you no longer wished to speak to me.' You chew down on your food, thinking of a response.

When you've finished your mouthful, you give him one. 'That wasn't anything personal, I promise. I've just been so busy lately, I've not really had much time to talk to anyone. I'm sorry if I worried you, Professor.' You give him an apologetic smile.

He grins back at you. 'That's quite alright. Oh, and please call me Augustine. I think we've known each other long enough to drop the formalities, non?' Of course you have, but that's not the reason you keep using them. You keep calling him Professor as a reminder to yourself that he's not just some random man you keep drooling over. He's a well-respected Professor, several years older than you, who should be treated with respect. If you start using his real name, you'll fool yourself into thinking he's someone more… attainable. If you do that, you might just let your true feelings slip out, and ruin a friendship that has taken years to cultivate. Still, if he really insists, then what harm can it do? It won't be the first time you've ever said his name. Granted, all those other times were in the comfort and safety of your own bedroom, but still. It'll probably be fine.

You take another sip of wine. 'Very well, Augustine.' The two of you look straight into each other's eyes, almost as if you're trying to tell what the other is thinking. Without breaking his stare, you lower you wineglass onto his lab coat.

This turns out to be a huge mistake.

Thanks to your lack of visual awareness, you end up putting the glass down on a crease in the lab coat, causing it to fall over and spill it's contents all over the coat. You break Sycamore's gaze to look upon the sight in horror, as crimson wine seeps into the pure white coat. Sycamore follows your stare, his hands flying up into his hair as he realises what's happening. Both of you go into panic mode, and you do the first thing that comes to mind; you try to pat the wine out with your bare hands.

Despite how ridiculous your idea is, Sycamore soon follows suit, desperately patting at the stain. The two of you both manage to work yourselves up into a patting frenzy, temperately forgetting about each other.

That is, until the two of you collide.

Your arms end up intermingled with each other, and your foreheads bash lightly into each other. The two of you lock eyes again, both with a pained expression on your faces. You're about to make a joke about the wine going to your heads, but something stops you. You find yourself overcome with a bizarre sense of deja vu, and begin to wonder if he feels it, too.

He speaks to you softly. 'This reminds me a little of our first meeting. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you bumped straight into me. At least, that's what you've always thought. The truth is that I was equally preoccupied, as I'd been sent by Professor Rowan to find a teenager he'd assumed had gotten lost en route to him. I was so concerned, I fear I thought the worst. After all, there are many men who would seek to take advantage of a lost teenage girl. I swore to myself that I would find you before they did.

'I was just thinking of places to look when we collided. I felt an immense sense of relief upon realising who you were. I was overjoyed to see you unharmed, albeit slightly flustered. I told myself then that I would seek to keep you safe, so that I could continue to feel that wonderful sense of relief. Since then, I have watched you grow up from that barefaced teenage girl into a beautiful young woman, one who could easy set aflutter the heart of any man she chooses. And several women, I might add.

'Our friendship has meant the whole world to me, and I would hate to spoil it. However, I must confess that I find it difficult to control myself around you. Sometimes, I find myself wishing that we had a met a few years later. Then I wouldn't find myself burdened with the guilt that accompanies my longing for you.' His breathing has increased rapidly, and his stare has intensified. If this was any other man, you'd tell him to back off.

Instead, you thread your hands into his silken locks, and bring his lips crashing onto your own.

His response is instantaneous, as if he'd been expecting you to do as you have. One of his hands grabs at the back of your head, and other grabs your hip, as he tries to pull you even closer to him. You find yourself moaning into his mouth, something he takes advantage of by slipping his tongue into your mouth. You respond in kind, desperate for a taste of him. You can taste is the wine you've both been drinking, coupled with something that can only be described as him. The taste is divine, and something you don't think you'd ever tire of.

Eventually, you have to break the kiss to breath. Unfazed, Sycamore heads straight for your neck, kissing and nibbling at it until you start moaning. Spurred on by your response, he begins to unbutton your blouse, undoing them until he's created enough space to sneak his hand in to cup a breast. You begin to rub your legs together without realising, longing for some kind of direct contact.

Suddenly, Sycamore unhands you completely, backing away from you slightly. You stare wide-eyed at him, thoroughly confused by his sudden change of heart. Has he decided that he doesn't find you attractive after all? Or maybe this is too weird for him, becoming sexually involved with someone he still remembers as a teenager.

To your great relief and approval, Sycamore begins to unbutton his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders before flinging it across the room. The next thing to be removed is the food, which is unceremoniously pushed off of your makeshift picnic blanket. Finally, he places his glass of wine and the bottle next to his coat, as if he's planning to do something with it.

When that's all done, he returns to you and begins to unbutton your blouse the rest of the way, whispering to you in a husky voice as he does. 'Mon amour, how I've waited for this moment. To finally get the chance to show you how I feel. How I have hated keeping it from you, when everyone here already knows that I am a man deeply in love. I want to savour this moment, if you'll let me.' He begins nibbling at your ear, and you think to yourself that you'll let him do anything he wants, just as long as he keeps making you feel this good.

You try to tell him that, but end up only being able to get two words out. 'Augustine… Please...' Your words cause him to lose patience, and he tears your blouse open, causing the final few buttons to fling off in unseen directions. He rids you of the remainder of the garment in seconds, before swiftly removing your bra, too. He manoeuvrers you so that he can push you down onto his soiled lab coat, before he sets to work removing the remainder of your clothing.

When you're totally bare, he takes a moment to admire your naked form in its entirety, before zeroing in on your breasts. He lightly runs his fingertips across them, moaning as your nipples harden beneath them. He can't resist giving your newly-hardened nipples a light pinch, earning him a gasp from your lips.

He returns his mouth to your neck, mumbling into it as he continues toying with your nipples. 'You like this? Do you? Then you're going to love what I plan to do next.' He gets onto his knees and reaches for his wineglass. You hold your breath, wondering what he plans to do with it. You get your answer when he tilts the glass towards you, and lets the wine spill out over and into your nipple.

The feeling of the cold liquid against you sensitive flesh is wonderful, but not nearly as good as what follows. Sycamore lowers his mouth, and begins to lap away at your nipple methodically, trying to collect every last drop of liquid into his mouth. You close your eyes as your mind loses the ability to think clearly, too overcome by lust to function. When he's finished licking up the wine, he takes your nipple into his mouth, and begins to suckle like starving babe. You wrap your legs around his waist, and almost scream out in ecstasy when something hard in his trousers rubs against your bare entrance. It seems to affect your lover too, as he accidentally bites down a little too hard, causing you to let loose a shriek that sounds like a cross between euphoria and excruciation. He starts to kiss your nipple lightly in penance, before he repeats his actions on the other side, once again tipping wine onto your naked flesh.

When he's had his fill of your nipples, he pours wine into the valley of your breasts, nuzzling his head between them as he laps it all up. When he's done, you hear him moan against your skin. 'You have the finest breasts I've ever seen. I could spend all day just looking at them. To be able to touch them like this…' He gropes them both with his warm hands. 'I will never get my fill of them. They are perfection.' Given how much attention he's paid them, you're willing to take his word for it.

He manages to drag his face away from your breasts long enough to offer you the remainder of his wine. You drink it down greedily, as if it's the finest wine you've ever had. In fact, it may just be the finest wine you'll ever have, given it's new connotations. You know that every time you get a taste of it, you'll remember this moment, and that's finer than all the wine in Kalos.

With the glass now empty, he brings over the bottle, taking a swig from it before returning to his original plan for it. He pours the wine all over your stomach, letting it pool in your belly button. Instead of lapping at your skin, this time he kisses it, sucking the wine off of you. He does this in a circle, gradually making his way towards you belly button. When he gets there, he sticks his tongue inside, and proceeds to move it in and out of the hole, clearly mimicking something else. The mere thought of what he's suggesting is driving you to distraction, to the point where you wish he'd stop this divine teasing of his.

When the wine is gone, he spreads you legs, and sticks his head between your thighs, eyeing up your entrance with a hungry look in his eyes. He buries his face into your thigh, and groans out 'Merde. Je veux te baiser de toutes les manieres.' You gasp, surprised to hear him speak in his mother tongue.

He looks at you, panic in his eyes. 'Forgive me, I did not mean to be so crude. You have no idea what you do to me.' He places the wine to one side, and shoves his face against your crotch, his tongue heading straight for your entrance. You scream loud enough to alert the entire building as his tongue rubs against your inner walls, the evidence of your arousal pouring into his mouth just as the wine had. You arch your back up, almost as if you're trying to force him closer to your crotch. He takes this as encouragement, moving his tongue in an out of you like a man possessed. You feel yourself approaching completion, when he does something completely unexpected; he removes his tongue, and replaces it with two of his fingers. The new intrusion stings a bit, but it's not as back as it could be, thanks to your constant state of arousal. Still, your body offers up enough resistance that Sycamore notices.

He looks up at you, his iris' all but gone as his pupils have become so dilated. 'Mon amour, is this your first time with a man?' You cover you eyes and nod, not wanting to see the look of distaste you're certain you'll see on his face. After all, who wants to bed a woman with no experience? He's having none of it though, as he uses he free hand to push your arms away from your face, and refuses to move until you look at him again. When you do, you see that he's smile at you sweetly, a stark contrast to the sexual mad man you'd seen between your legs moments ago.

He begins to move his hand again as he speaks. 'Are you certain you want to give yourself to me like this? On a soiled lab coat, in the middle of my place of work? If you want, we can wait until tonight, where I can make love to you in-between silken sheets on a soft bed. Just say the word and we can stop this now, because the moment I free myself from my trousers, I don't think I'll be able to.' He couldn't have picked a worse time to be so considerate, not with your orgasm nearly here and you body wanting to feel complete. Had he made the suggestion earlier, you might have agreed to it. As it is, there's no way in hell you want to stop now. You're going to have this man inside of you right now, or else your whole body is going to spend the day shaking with need.

You begin to push your body against his fingers, urging him to move faster. When he doesn't, you have to force yourself to give him a coherent answer. 'I want you to take my virginity, right here and now. Please, Augustine, I need you so badly it hurts.' Those appear to be the magic words, as he begins to move his hand with increased speed, as his mouth focuses in onto you clit. He licks it in slow, lazy circles, occasionally worrying it with his teeth. Just when you're certain this can't get any better, he slips a third finger into you, and you climax so hard the world ceases to exist for a while. All that exists is you, your lover, and the fantastic things he's doing to your body. Everything else ceases to be for a while, as you're mind is totally consumed by pleasure.

Sycamore works your through your orgasm thoroughly, taking care to extend your pleasure for as long as possible. Finally, when you finally stop convulsing around his fingers, he removes them, and sets about freeing his neglected erection from his trousers.

In his flustered state, Sycamore struggles to unto his belt, but eventually manges, before shoving both his trousers and his underwear down in one, and lining himself up with your entrance. You spread your legs as far apart as you can, welcoming him between them. Before he pushes in, he grabs hold of one of your hands, lacing his fingers into yours. He looks deep into your eyes, emotions pouring from one set to another. He gently presses his lips to your own, and whispers 'Tu es tres belle.' against them before he slips himself inside of you, using his free hand to wrap one of your legs around his waist it give him easier access. The pace he sets is wonderfully slow, like he has all the time in the world to please you. In reality, he's probably going this slow for fear of hurting you, but knowing that only makes things better.

As his pleasure increases, Sycamore lets loose an entire cacophony of phrases in his mother tongue, spoken with such passion and reverence that it brings tears to your eyes, despite not knowing the meaning of the words. He lightly kisses every inch of you he can, from the tip of your nose to the valley of your breasts, seemingly mesmerised by you. All you can do is writhe under him, as he introduces you to sensations you've never fully experienced before. Your whole body feels alight with pleasure, and it isn't long before you fall apart again, your lover's name the only word you can form as you lose your mind for a second him.

Feeling you fall apart like that is too much for Sycamore, who finishes inside of you with a groan, mumbling your name into you neck as he tries desperately to work you through your orgasm again.

When you're both finally spent, Sycamore pulls out of you, allowing a mixture of his seed and your arousal to further stain his beloved lab coat. At this point though, you don't think he cares. He settles down next to you, reaching for the wine as he does. He takes a sip before offering it to you. You follow suit, filling your mouth with wine before dragging him into a kiss. He accepts it willingly, and even ends up drinking some of the wine from your mouth. When some of it escapes, he laps it up, making sure not a drop more is wasted. You've already spilt one load, after all…

He takes the bottle from you and places it to one side, before bringing you up to snuggle into his chest. As he traces lazy circles across your back, a thought occurs to him. 'Where are you staying at the moment?' Well, his idea of post-coital chat is certainly interesting.

You answer him anyway. 'Hotel Richissime. Why, want my room number for tonight?' You wink at him seductively.

He lets out a chuckle. 'Actually, I was rather hoping I could convince you to stay with me instead. Rent-free, of course, though I could always do with some extra assistance in the lab if you want to pay me in some way.' That's not an offer that you get everyday.

Pretend to think about it, before a genuine question pops into your head. 'Are you sure you're nor expecting me to pay you in… other ways?'

You expect him to smile, but his expression turns stern. 'Never. I would never abuse you in such a way, ma cherie. This only happens if you want it to. You don't have to do anything with me that makes you unhappy.' It's cute that he's taking this seriously, but that really was just a joke.

You smile at him. 'I'd love to stay with you, Augustine. On one condition.'

He raises his eyebrows. 'Oh? And what would that be?'

You smirk at him. 'I'm not the one who has to get the stains out of you lab coat.'


End file.
